


The Secret...

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, Protective Gabriel, Romance, lacuna coil - freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-27
Updated: 2012-09-27
Packaged: 2017-11-15 03:58:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel doesn't know how to stop. He doesn't want to stop, but he needs to let Dean know at least. Needs to let him know the biggest secret he has at this point.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Secret...

**Author's Note:**

> Dean/Gabriel. Had this in my head for the past week (now about a year ago), and finally had to pour it out. Enjoy.

There are a lot of things he loves, a lot of things he would claim he lives for. Humanity is one of them. A certain human has shown him just how beautiful humans are, in a more personal way than he probably intended. He loves the women and the cake and the fun he gets out of playing with his father’s little toys, but Dean Winchester showed him in the most clearest way imaginable that humans are not toys, he and his brother are not toys. Gabriel wants to play with Dean, and he has, but he doesn’t want to play that game anymore. He wants to try something different. He wants to try to play the game of a little four letter word called love. 

Though if you were to ask him of this, he would deny you and likely rip your throat out. Even though he is trying to change for the better. 

Gabriel isn’t an idiot, he knows what love is just not what it entails. He is aware love can end as quickly as it can begin, and from personal experience he knows love can last throughout eons, even when it is masked by hate, like what he had with Kali. But when talking about his new pet, he doesn’t know quite what to say. He’s nothing like Kali is, for one thing he isn’t a woman, even if Kali could easily change from woman to man, Gabriel always will know that she is a female at heart. He also doesn’t know if he feels the same way, whatever that same way is exactly. 

It just goes round and round and round in the archangel’s head. It drives him insane because he doesn’t know what he feels, just knows that he feels something. Feels something he probably shouldn’t feel. 

Dean Winchester is a complex man, and not to mention a straight man. There’s something about him though, whether it’s the way he holds himself or his complete intolerance for bullshit he can’t say. Whether it’s his deeply sexy voice or ruggedly handsome looks he doesn’t know. It could be his charming personality lined with a little cynicism, or the way he just keeps on surviving through everything that’s just so breathtakingly stunning that Gabriel can’t turn away from. It’s probably so many things, so many perfect things. 

But Gabriel’s not denying anything to himself when he says it’s his lips. That was the thing that drew him in, made him go to the finish line, or the closest he’s ever gonna probably get to the finish line. Cause as soon as he focused on those lips, he couldn’t pull away. And he did something really stupid, something not really unlike him but in the fact that it’s Dean, very unlike him. He threw himself on him, gently not forcefully. Well, it really depends on how you look at it. And Dean most likely will not look at it well. 

It’s really too bad that the eldest Winchester doesn’t know that he’s getting his lips sucked off every night by an archangel. By his very own guardian angel, even though he kinda isn’t. He merely likes to think he’s filling in for Castiel, because he’s gone into the deep end and doesn’t look like he’s gonna be coming back anytime soon. 

Anyway, he kisses Dean and he doesn’t regret it. Tells himself not to regret it. 

And if you were to ask him how many times he’s kissed him, he’ll say to you that it’s none of your damn business. But then if you press him further, he might give in and say that he truly doesn’t know. And that’s not a lie. 

 

Every night Dean sleeps, every night Sam is asleep as well, which is completely necessary, he appears next to the elder Winchester’s bed. He makes himself weightless and hovers above him, kissing him and keeping hold of him. He uses a portion of his grace to keep Dean asleep, to assure that he doesn’t wake up because this wouldn’t be a good situation for him to wake up in. 

It’s so wrong, he knows it but doesn’t care. He only wishes he could give Dean more than just secret kisses. 

On the nights where Dean is stressed and restless in his sleep, he lies next to him and caresses him, stroking back his hair and kissing him extra gently. After a while, he makes them deep and passionate, wishes he would allow himself to let Dean awaken so he could feel them and revel in the sheer glory of them. But it’s no secret that Dean Winchester will freak out and pull away, never admitting that their lips locking help him in more ways than either of them could ever imagine. 

He breathes his grace into his mouth to chase away the nightmares, because Castiel is no longer there, because Sam is too busy dealing with his own problems to notice his big brother is slipping. He kisses Dean as an invisible way to prove his love. And he doesn’t stop kissing, night after night, hour after hour, lip on lip over and over till he’s surprised Dean still has enough air to breathe. 

He doesn’t know what this is. Only knows two simple things, that he’s drawn to Dean in some unnatural and pathetic way, and that he’s done with the days of playing with his life. Rather he wants to breathe life into him. And maybe that’s love. Maybe he should stop denying it. 

 

One night Sam sees him, one night he panics and flees despite a silent urging in his head not to leave Dean. He stares down at Sam from high up above, watches him shake his head and seemingly deny it. He wonders if Sam would care if he was really there. 

He doesn’t go back to Dean that night. Whether he’s too afraid or too impatient he doesn’t know. More than ever he wants to wake Dean up and make love to him slow and gentle. Gabriel doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, doesn’t care. All he knows is that he doesn’t want to leave Dean, cannot possibly leave Dean. He’s afraid to admit and all too ready to deny, that he needs Dean as much as Dean needs him. 

And he knows it’s a sad fact. But he also knows that others would call it sweet. 

Well, Dean is the sweetest prize he could gain. And he’s taken him for granted long enough. Now, it’s time to make up for all of that. 

Death has been a second chance for him, a second chance to confront the things and people he left behind. To face emotions he never had the chance to delve into. Like that night in the car with Dean the night of his death, when he finally realized he didn’t want the Winchester to leave, didn’t ever want him to leave. 

Now that he was alive he could look back on that. Convince himself that urge wasn’t a onetime thing. It was, hopefully, the start of something beautiful. Or the end of something beautiful. 

Gabriel’s just happy he thinks of someone in that way. He’s happy that it’s Dean and not someone else. Because Dean is rare and beautiful and a temptation that gnaws at him every millisecond. 

This is real. This feels real. 

 

The night that Castiel is trapped in a ring of holy fire by Dean and Bobby and Sam, the night that the three of them crash in some motel far enough away from the place when Crowley shows up, is the night that Gabriel knows. 

If he had been able, any of those nights, even if he had had an ounce of courage to leave Dean and carry on his merry way, than he could say differently. But one thing the archangel is not, is a fool. He knows his inability to leave Dean means something, has always meant something. He knows that the constant touches of skin on skin, lips on lips, the unending caresses and kisses and holding his head up so as to simply feel what it’s like to hold a part of him, to feel his spiky hair sending goose bumps of joy up his arm, means that he loves Dean. 

There, you happy now? He LOVES Dean. 

He loves the feel of him, the taste of his breath, the way he lies in bed, the way his skin still shines with beauty even underneath the sheets, the way his eyes sometimes move beneath his lids. He loves everything about Dean. Which means he loves him. 

Dean can’t sleep that night, lies on the bed staring up at the ceiling, covers himself with the sheets because he complains he’s cold, which is clearly more emotional than physical. Castiel has betrayed him, Sam doesn’t care, if he did he’d be lying awake as well. Which means that Dean is alone, or rather, he thinks he’s alone. But he’s not. 

Gabriel is there. 

It’s no great secret that he wants to go down there and lie next to him, hold him, kiss him fiercely enough to make him forget all about Castiel. He wants to tell the Winchester he loves him, that he can no longer keep it a secret to Dean now that it’s no longer a secret to himself. He wants to curl up into Dean and wish the world away. Wants to lie with him forever in a bed of silk with endless boxes of chocolate and endless amounts of Dean’s skin at his fingertips. 

Dean is everything to him. And Dean is nothing. Because it’s no complex secret that what they have can never last, can never be. His love can never be reciprocated. 

He watches him for hours, until the first streaks of dawn show through the grimy little window and the human finally falls asleep, finally gives into the darkness. 

Gabriel goes to him immediately, climbs into the bed with him and kisses him so fiercely it sucks his breath away within seconds. He pulls back the sheets and lies beside him, places his mouth on his once more, breathes his own life and love into him. His hand snakes his way to the back of his head and pulls it up slowly, so as to better taste his lips. They are so soft, so luscious, which makes them so irresistible. Their decadence is stronger in its sweetness than chocolate could ever hope to be, there’s something about the feel of them that’s so eternal, that leaves withering away and drying up an impossibility. He revels in the ecstasy, lets it fill him and take him away from the bedroom, from their lives, from the world that’s simply not good enough for them. 

He’s so lost in the perfection of it all that he doesn’t see the other person in the room stir. 

“Gabriel.”

It’s not a question, and Gabriel looks back on that night that the youngest Winchester first saw him, when he apparently knew he was there and alive. Now he’s doomed. And now he doesn’t care. Nothing can convince him to leave this moment, this human beneath him. 

He lifts himself off Dean and watches him begin to stir as well. But his return to consciousness is slow. He has time, he thinks. He hopes. 

“Sam.”

He really doesn’t know what else to say. 

_I love your brother. There’s something wrong with me but I love him. And you won’t make me go away._

“You never died did you?”

Sam doesn’t appear to be hostile, but he doesn’t look off his guard either. Gabriel is left speechless. And Gabriel is never speechless. 

He shakes his head and Sam nods, more to himself than to Gabriel. 

“What the hell are you doing?” His voice is merely curious, not a threat. 

Sam is close but not enough for him to touch him, attack him, do whatever the hell else he might do. Gabriel looks back down at Dean to see his eyes open, blink and stare. He stares back and he vanishes, not wanting to see Dean’s reaction when he finally realizes he’s there. 

And not for the first time, Gabriel wonders if the most passionate, the most real kiss he’s ever had with the human was what brought him to consciousness. Not for the last time, he wonders if Dean felt it. If he knew Gabriel was kissing him. 

 

Dean calls him not too long after but he doesn’t answer, he’s not ready. He’s there when Castiel goes all haywire though, gets there at the last minute to maintain the legacy of the Winchesters. Though really it’s just for Dean. Everything he does is for Dean. 

He doesn’t kill Castiel but he sends him far far away, to someplace he can never escape, never do more harm. Never hurt Dean again in any way. 

Dean calls his name and he goes over to him, ready to explain everything, apologize, confess his love. Whatever will come out of his mouth first. 

But Dean’s arm moves faster than he can see, and soon it is behind his head, pulling him closer. Pulling him closer and closer and closer and Gabriel smiles. 

And when Dean lays his lips on his own he feels it, stronger than ever, blossoming between the both of them, within them. Love. 

Dean’s kiss is deep but not rough, passionate and slightly gentle but not girly. No, Dean Winchester is not a chick. It’s merely one thing. Love. 

Gabriel wraps his arms around the hunter and pulls into him, close enough so that they are touching in so many beautiful places. His skin tingles, his eyes close in pleasure, and Dean breathes life into him. Enough love to sustain him. 

He wonders if anything could be more perfect. 

He thinks as he sinks deeper into Dean Winchester. His Dean. 

He says no. And he means it. He means every word. 

Loving Dean is unceasing happiness. 

That’s no secret.

**FIN**


End file.
